


It's you. It's me. It's us.

by catboygirlfriend



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Also this is my first fan fic so be nice, An AU where Owen frequently visits Bly Manor, Angst, Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, F/M, Fluff, For the most part at least, I really needed more Owen x Hannah content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catboygirlfriend/pseuds/catboygirlfriend
Summary: Hannah has never really left Owen's mind. She lived there permanently, sometimes in the dark, but he knew that the memory of her would live in him forever, and that was good enough for him. He never was able to find someone else like Hannah- someone with a smile that could like up any room they walked into it. He decides to visit Bly, for old time's sake, and see the well one last time. As he looked up from that well, he never expected Hannah to be standing right there next to him, smiling softly.
Relationships: Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Kudos: 5





	It's you. It's me. It's us.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fan fic, I hope you like it!  
> I just wanted more Owen x Hannah content so I decided to make my own based on some headcanons I have for them.

The truth is, the restaurant had been good to him. He made pretty decent money. He had a handful of amazing chefs under his wing. He didn’t really have to want for anything else in life. This is what he had always wanted; this is what he always dreamt of. 

I mean, sure, sometimes things got tough. Sometimes he would have a stack of bills sitting on his old mahogany desk; sometimes an oven would stop working- or worse, all of the ovens would stop working (yes, that has happened more than once). But it was worth it. He would frequently sit at his desk and think to himself, “mum would be proud… yes, I reckon she would be,” and that made him quite happy. 

And once in a while… well, actually, a lot more often than he’d like to admit, Owen would think hard, as hard as he could about the manor, the children, Hannah.

Hannah. Sometimes when he thought of her, he would just sigh. Sometimes it would hurt, and maybe he would even wince before pouring himself some brandy in a glass much too large to be intended for liquor. And sometimes, just sometimes, he’d get a little tingle up his spine, and he felt that maybe, just maybe, she was there with him.

He knew that was foolish, though. He knew she was gone. It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept that, because in his mind he had accepted it, but he also found it comforting to imagine her face with that big, beautiful smile of hers.


End file.
